


Second Lives

by mechadogmarron



Series: Second Lives [2]
Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga), Devilman Crybaby - Fandom
Genre: Body Horror, Crybaby-verse, F/M, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Multi, Other, Violent Fantasies, dom/sub themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-22 20:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14316966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechadogmarron/pseuds/mechadogmarron
Summary: After his rebirth as a Devilman, Akira struggles with accepting his new form - and the urges that come with it. There's more to demons than meets the eye, after all.





	1. Fantasia

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to use archive warnings because I wasn't sure at what severity you were supposed to tag them, but this chapter has:  
> \- Largely non-graphic depictions of violence  
> \- Mentions of sexually violent fantasies  
> \- Mentions of cannibalistic fantasies

Getting used to the demon — to Amon — was weird.

The killing part was easy, easier than it should’ve been. Amon hadn’t had any qualms about that, at least, no strange thoughts about the creatures Akira slaughtered wholesale being kin to them. He-as-the-human didn’t believe they were, not for a second, but him-as-the-demon didn’t care for its fellows either. His largely human heart might’ve struggled with demonic instincts, demonic urges, but it certainly didn’t struggle with a loyalty to demonic fellows. _They were weaker_ , that part of his brain would supply, any time he tried to feel guilty. _They died because they wouldn_ _’t accept your rules, your demands. You’re stronger than them. Your word is law._

The Sabbath had hardened his human heart, at least a little, against demonkind. Amon needed no such prompting.

It was never enough to satisfy, of course, not for the demon in him. If he killed three foes, he wanted four more. All the demons on Earth couldn’t’ve sated that lust for blood. But it was something, enough to take the edge off, enough that he only occasionally burst out crying at the realization he was fantasizing about how good it would feel to disembowel a classmate.

The food part was a little trickier. Demon flesh tasted delicious when he was in his demonic form, pungent enough tingle even a demonic tongue, but the second he returned to being human he’d puke it back up and burn his throat and tongue in the process. It was one of the reasons he always hunted with Ryo, not that there was any lack of those; his friend could always convince him to shift back before he started chowing down. But given that he wouldn’t eat Amon’s truly preferred cuts, and he couldn’t eat demon meat, it left him trying to satisfy his evil urges with beef and pork and (on one particularly memorable occasion) most of a goat.

Even with Ryo’s deep pockets, though, it just wasn’t enough. He’d eat until he retched and still want more, still think about how good it would taste to let loose on someone, to turn a beautiful, precious life into nothing but proteins and fats and amino acids. _Ryo probably wouldn_ _’t mind_ , the demon would rationalize, _not if you didn_ _’t make a scene, not if it wasn’t someone important. The city’s full of awful people._

He never did it, never even felt seriously tempted, but _damn_ if the feeling of wanting it wasn’t awful enough on its own.

The sex part, that was the hardest of them.

Amon was a demon, and demons liked to fuck. Not quite in the same way humans did — they’d turned the practical orgy of the Sabbath into a hellhole instead of enjoying it for what it was — but demonic life was a litany of sex, meat, and violence, sometimes all at the same time. He’d thought about fooling around with classmates, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it; Amon didn’t just want to fuck him, he wanted to mutilate them, wanted to consume them, wanted to reduce them to less than objects, to nothing and nothing at all. He wasn’t willing to hurt them like that, and for all he was the Devilman, the devil with a _human_ heart, he still didn’t quite trust himself. Not with something so intimate. He had a hard enough time keeping himself in his weaker form when he was jacking off, let alone with a partner.

Still, Amon’s fantasies would bleed into his dreams. Fucking women, fucking men, always the aggressor, always brutal. _Showing them your strength_ , Amon would supply, _taking what_ _’s yours to take._ He was stronger than them, and that made their wills irrelevant. He wasn’t sure how much of his strength came from the incredibly powerful demon who had come to reside in him and how much of it came from retaining enough of a human intellect not to go mad with his desire to kill, but either way even the strongest demons he had met were nothing to him. Humans, born without hide or scale or fang or claw, were weaker still. In the dreamscape he was a savage beast, just as much devil as man; in the dreamscape no one could overcome him. He was the most powerful being of them all.

Save one man, anyways.

Ryo was as regal in his dreams as he was in reality, dressed in his silky fur coats worth more than Akira had spent on clothing in his whole life. He never took them off, not once; they were a symbol of his power, his prestige, his value. Something about him screamed _I am better than you_. With other humans, and even other demons, Amon knew he was better than them, that he was more powerful than them, and even if he didn’t use it to hurt his fellow man Akira couldn’t disagree that he was stronger. But something about Ryo — maybe his incredible intelligence, maybe his vast wealth, maybe that way he seemed to know things he shouldn’t for no reason at all — made Amon feel weaker than him, feel like his lesser. It was the natural hierarchy: Ryo was better than Amon, and Amon was better than everyone else. Second from the top wasn’t such a bad place. Nothing to be ashamed of, as long as the top dog liked you well enough.

And in those dreams, Amon was on hands and knees in front of his better, loyal servant to the body of the one being he saw as his better. It was his _duty_ to serve, to make himself worth something to Ryo, to engender some form of affection. If Ryo liked him, if Ryo enjoyed his mouth and his hands and his body, then he was fulfilling his role in the natural order. It was just the way things were, not a deeper love, not a greater affection. Amon’sfeelings for Ryo weren’t legitimate, weren’t real, weren’t like Akira’s. It didn’t mean anything, how Amon would push him to throw himself in the way of any other demon daring to threaten Ryo, didn’t mean anything about how the demon’s fantasies involved those gentle hands on his face, almost caressing him as he proved his worth. Demons didn’t feel love. Only humans felt love.

At least that was what Akira told himself.


	2. Truths

The situation with Nagasaki had been hard, but he’d survived it. Ryo had wanted to kill Miki, and Amon had agreed, but Akira held his ground. After the fight he’d brought Miki home, and in a day and a half they were inseparable again, Ryo’s weird spying be damned. If anything, the whole thing had been comforting — the knowledge that for all his cruelty, Ryo _did_ care what Akira had to say. The demon had been unimaginably evil, cruel, loveless, an easy creature to hate. He hadn’t had to think about whether it was wrong or right to take it out. It had hurt his friend, exploited her, fully intended to use and discard her.

He barely felt a thing when Nagasaki expired.

Jinmen, Jinmen was harder. Jinmen was a devil wearing his parents like a coat, and even if it was only a thin veneer it was one that he couldn’t look past, that he could barely overcome even knowing how fake it was. But it only further hardened his heart, only made him hate demonkind more in the end. Demons could dress themselves however they wanted, make themselves into beautiful women or dear family members or friendly old men, but in the end they were all the same beneath it. They had no value; their lives meant nothing. He wasn’t just a demon with a human heart, he was the only demon he’d met who had a heart at all. Jinmen couldn’t fake that.

No, it was _Silene_ who was hard. And more than Silene, it was Kaim.

Kaim hadn’t wanted Silene because he was stronger than her and thought he _deserved_ her. Kaim hadn’t wanted Silene because he was weaker than her and wanted her protection and favor. Kaim had wanted Silene because he — because he _loved_ her. He had loved her with his whole heart, a beautiful martyristic love that had given her the strength to feel joy in her final moments. His own life had meant nothing before her. Even though they’d been on the same power level, he’d submitted himself before her anyways, sacrificing up his own body. Even though she hadn’t loved him — even though she’d only lusted for Amon, had desired to submit herself before him for a shard of his power.

Demons weren’t supposed to be able to feel love. Love was for human hearts, a human emotion, a gift from God the damned could never even dream of experiencing. His feelings for Miki were real. His feelings for Ryo were real. Kaim’s feelings, Amon’s feelings, Silene’s feelings, those couldn’t be real, because if they were real he’d been killing innocents this whole time. Even if it was because Kaim was a Devilman, just like him, it was evidence enough that there was nothing special about him, that any demon could become a Devilman if they just tried hard enough.

For all the bluster, he really wasn’t anything special in the end. If he’d just negotiated better, just talked more, he could’ve saved human _and_ demon lives. He and Amon didn’t have some kind of unique bond or creation story; they had merged, just like Silene and Kaim. Except he was a human, not a demon. It put weird thoughts in his mind. Could he merge with other demons? Could he merge with other _humans_? It started to slip into his fantasies. Becoming _one_ with Miki, with his whole family; they’d never be away from him again, he’d never have to lose them like his blood family, they’d always be safe. He could never leave them unguarded only to come home to their rotting corpses on the floor.

Even more than that, though, he thought about Ryo. How they would look as one being, a beautiful melding of Ryo’s soft, gentle features and Akira’s hard lines and sharp corners. He liked to think they’d be as lovely as Ryo was, and as physically powerful as he was, both intelligent and honorable, both connected and personable. The kind of person anyone would want to be around. And all those close calls, all those times demons got too close for comfort, would be gone for good. They’d be safe together. And Ryo would understand, fully and completely, just how much they loved him.

It was a beautiful fantasy, as easy to slip into as all the ones where he fucked or killed or ate his way through his peers, but it always left him feeling guilty. Ryo wouldn’t want him thinking that way; he didn’t deserve Ryo’s thinking like that. He shouldn’t be so accepting of such demonic thoughts. He couldn’t let the boundary between demon and human erode. Even if demons could choose the right path, could become Devilmen, they weren’t doing so. Even Kaim, for all the love he could feel, had used that love to do wrong and not right.

But every night he thought about it, and let that barrier erode a little more. Let Amon be a part of him, let Amon’s thoughts be his without even trying to stop it. He was a Devilman, after all, just as demonic as he was human. And as guilty as his thoughts about merging with Ryo were, as his thoughts about submitting to Ryo were, as his thoughts about loving Ryo were, they weren’t gross. They weren’t foreign.

It wasn’t just Amon. It wasn’t just Akira. They weren’t even separate beings anymore, not really. There were thoughts that were Akira thoughts, thoughts about homework and grades and the Makimura family; there were thoughts that were Amon thoughts, thoughts about sex and violence and sexual violence. But they were one person in the end, a single being, and they both loved Ryo.

He loved Ryo with his whole undivided heart, and the thought of it brought him joy just as much as it made him feel sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of this should be up sometime next week. It goes some weird places, and I don't want to disappoint anyone with it, so I might write an alternate ending, depending on. I'm more of a horror writer than I am a romance writer when it comes to my original work, so writing this was an interesting experience!


	3. Third Life

He didn’t see the demon coming up behind him, for all his heightened senses, until he heard Ryo’s scream and the sound of crunching bone. He whipped around, moved to intercept faster than he’d ever gone before, thankful for years of training his body for speed, and knocked the demon off of Ryo. Despite the fury in his heart that a fellow demon would dare to lay a finger on him, he wasted no time in dispatching the creature, ripping its head off before jumping back over to take out the last few he’d been fighting.

As soon as the demons were gone, he was at Ryo’s side. The wound — the wound looked pretty bad. He still had all his limbs attached, which was a good sign; just because Akira’s could grow back didn’t mean his human friend was similarly protected. His neck looked right, but his torso was depressed weirdly, his stomach sliced open.

Akria didn’t know if it was survivable.

“Ryo, Ryo, we have to —”

“Don’t worry.” Ryo’s voice was weak but even, more even than it should’ve been, given the amount of pain he was obviously in. “Take me home. Jenny can care for me.”

“Ryo, you’re dying, I can’t just take you back! We need to go to the hospital right away! You’re going to — you’re going to die, Ryo!” He was crying, as per the usual.

“Jenny is more than she looks. She can do more for me than a hospital. C’mon, Akira, get moving, we’re short on time. If she can’t help me you can take me wherever you’d like.”

Akira wanted to argue, wanted to fight, but he’d never been good at resisting Ryo - even as injured as he was, there was something authoritative in his voice, a kind of leadership it was hard to deny. Scooping up Ryo gently in his arms, Akira took to the skies, doing his best to keep him steady and properly supported. When they were both well, flying with Ryo was fun; Akira was a daredevil, and for all Ryo acted like it was a waste when they whipped through the skyline at night, Akira knew he was having fun. It was obvious just from the smile. This was nothing like that.

When he reached the apartment he almost crashed through a window, saved from that very action only by Jenny having the foresight to have opened one. At her silent insistence he laid Ryo down on his bed, then — despite a heavy heart — cleared out, mostly because the glare she gave him could’ve laid waste to even the strongest will.

Alone, without Ryo, dealing with something he could never explain to Miki or Miko or any of his other track buddies, he began to sob. The thoughts raced through his head, the same ones he often found himself entertaining late at night, thoughts of giving his strength to Ryo, of literally becoming one. If he’d done that, if he did that, Ryo would be safe. There wouldn’t be any more close calls, there wouldn’t be any more horrible demonic injuries. Ryo might’ve been quick to heal, but there was stuff he couldn’t come back from. A little less luck and he could’ve had a crushed rib going straight through his heart.

“If I’d just — if I’d been more brave — if I’d thought more — I could’ve given him my strength — we could’ve —” He didn’t even realize he was talking to himself, a disjointed stream of guilt and hope and prayers as he rocked back and forth, thrashing his tail. He didn’t know if those meant anything, given his own demonic nature, but he’d give up anything for Ryo to be safe. His own integrity, his own body, his physical form meant nothing. He protected everyone, he protected the whole city, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one particular person he especially wanted to keep safe.

He sat like that for a while, alone, pouring his heart out to no one at all, until Jenny left Ryo’s side to come to Akira’s. She was a woman of few, if any, words, but he still knew exactly what she wanted without even a gesture on her part. Ryo was safe, but he was resting, and Akira couldn’t see him right now. The guest room was his, as it always was. Once Ryo was awake, she would fetch him. All of that in a single glance, a single stern look.

It was impossible to argue with her, and not just because she saw no point in responding, so he left his crying on the couch behind to cry in bed instead. Knowing Ryo was safe was enough for him to _finally_ revert back to human form, but he barely noticed his weakening senses or the way the world shrunk around him as he collapsed onto the ridiculously posh mattress. But sleep wouldn’t come easy, if at all, and soon he found himself practicing his speech in front of the mirror. “Ryo, I love you,” he told his reflection. “Ryo, I can’t bear to see you hurt like this. Do you remember Kaim, Ryo? Ryo, I feel like Kaim around you. Ryo, I want to keep you safe…”

By the time he had calmed down enough to go to bed, he could barely think, so addled by the strange demonic thoughts. He’d fallen fully into sync with Amon, even though his form was still wholly human — an entirely new experience for him; the demon always influenced him, but usually the worst of it was reserved for when Akira wore Amon’s skin as his own, tacitly accepting that the two of them were one being and inviting himself into that domain. It felt like every nerve was on fire, even though he was so tired he could barely stand; he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, only to find himself transported to strange dreams of flesh and skin and bone and fire, even more vivid than the ones he’d had in his first days of demonic existence.

It was Jenny who came to wake him up. Though she neither touched him nor called his name, her unnerving presence alone was enough to rouse him from his slumber. He understood full well why Ryo retained her — she’d been with him since he was a child, and beyond that she was excellent at any task imaginable and more loyal than even he was — but it didn’t mean he was comfortable around her. There was something almost inhuman in her impassive expression.

“Is Ryo —”

She didn’t speak, just nodded, but he understood exactly what she met even though he hadn’t finished his question. Ryo was ready to see him now. Whatever his injuries were, however severe they were, he was up enough to hold a reasonably complex conversation — there was no way he’d ever let Akira in his presence when he was still too loopy for that; it was beneath his dignity. That was a good sign if there ever was one. Even if it wasn’t easy, even if he wasn’t all well, he was going to be okay.

Even so, his heart didn’t stop pounding as he followed Jenny back to Ryo’s bed, feeling like it was about ready to burst as Jenny opened the door as quietly and gently as possible.

When he saw Ryo, sitting up in bed, typing away on his laptop as always, he started crying in relief.

“Ryo! You’re okay!”

“Of course I’m okay, Akira. The injury wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked. I think I’d best stay in bed for a couple of days just to be sure, so we’ll need to take a break from demon hunting, but I can still gather information online. There are some interesting reports of trouble not far from here, actually… strange sounds in the night, women going missing… We’ll have to head out once I’ve recovered.”

“Ryo, you almost died last night! You need to care for yourself more. This demon hunting buisness, it’s dangerous. You’re going to get killed.”

“If we don’t do it, all of the people the demons are killing will die. Am I really worth more than all of their lives combined?”

“Well — no, but you could stay behind. You don’t have to fight like this. I appreciate your support, but we haven’t run into anything dangerous since the combat with Silene. I can care for myself.”

“Akira, I’m not doubting your ability to take care of yourself, but Jenny tells me you didn’t return to human form for hours last night. I theorize that it’s difficult for you to revert yourself without the grounding presence of a fellow human. And if someone sees you… you’re too soft-hearted, Akira. You need someone with a little more sense and rationality to guide you.”

“Ryo —”

“Look, let me cut to the chase. As you are probably well-aware, this is my home, and I have ears all around, so to speak. I heard what you were saying to yourself earlier.”

“Ryo, I can explain, it’s not —”

Ryo shook his head. “Akira, I understand. Really, I understand more than you think. I haven’t mentioned this because her abilities are not… combat-oriented, so to speak, but Jenny is a Devilman too. She became one in order to protect me. She has spoken with me at length about the feelings of your kind — that is why I was able to be so prepared to turn you into a Devilman, and why I understood what you would need to live comfortably as one.”

“Jenny’s a Devilman? But she seems so — I mean, I’ve never seen her — I mean…” But that wasn’t true. There was something in her gaze, something in her posture that was distinctively not human; he’d _just_ been thinking about it, even. It was easy to cast aside the thought, to think she was too loyal, too selfless in her protection of Ryo, but wasn’t he the same way?

Demons weren’t typically loyal creatures, no. But he was starting to think that the peak of demonic loyalty might go beyond even what humans could typically experience.

“Yes. As a demon, she is known as ‘Psycho Jenny’ - more as a corruption of _psychic_ than as any reference to psychosis or psychopathy. She has the ability to influence others, and to communicate silently over long distances, though as you’ve probably gathered she doesn’t speak in human form. She is not particularly fond of other humans, as you may have gathered, but her loyalty to me is unquestionable.”

“There’s something special about you. I don’t know how to say it, but… I, Akira, love you. But more than that, Amon loves you. The demon in me thinks the world of you. To him, you’re something incredibly special. I don’t know if Jenny feels as split as I do, but I imagine it must be much the same for her.”

“Interesting.” Ryo smiled, the kind of predatory grin that make Akira nervous but sent shivers up Amon’s spine. “Your feelings are not unwelcome.”

Akira grinned. That was Ryo talk for _I love you, too_. “I’m glad.”

“You should be. They would be unwelcome from most other humans, but I have always appreciated your perspective, as crass as it can sometimes be. Now, Jenny has told me about a process among demons, not unlike what Kaim did for Silene. If my injuries had been severe enough that I could not heal without it, she would have given herself that I might live, but as you can gather from the fact that she was able to fetch you I needed no such thing. Outside of the process’s ability to heal severe wounds, she is of far more use to me separate than I would gain from becoming one with her. I’m able to convince others of what they should do just fine without any demonic talent, after all. Is this the merging you spoke of earlier?”

“Yeah. It’s — Ryo, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to drag you into all of this. The real specifics of demonic life, anyways.”

“Akira, I appreciate your consideration, but I did make you into a Devilman. Even if you’d become one on your own, I would still be involved — I have been almost from the start. I believe my involvement may be even greater than I realize, although unfortunately I have no way of confirming such suspicions.”

“What do you mean? I mean, I don’t know how much more involved you could possibly be.”

“There are strange occurrences, I have realized. They seem to follow me. First the professor’s death, and then Jenny. That someone would encounter so many demonic forces seems unlikely, even after I began seeking them out — after all, none of the people I’ve met seeking the same thing have had anywhere near as much fortune as I have. Beyond that, I heal more quickly than other humans. I’ve noticed Jenny plays down the severity of my injuries, but as I’ve become more aware I’ve noticed just how serious some of them have been. A normal person might’ve survived what I went through last night, but they wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you. I heal just as quickly as you do, Akira, although I’ve never tried cutting an arm or a leg off to confirm if mine grow back.”

“Ryo, are you —?” The concept of his friend being a Devilman seemed impossible, but there was no way of knowing for sure. He’d been surprised more than a few times.

“I don’t believe I’m a Devilman in the typical sense; given the severity of the events I’ve been through in these past few years, I should have taken an inhuman form if I was. I’ve asked Jenny if she senses anything unusual about me, but I’ve never gotten a particularly clear answer from her. You mentioned Amon is quite fond of me; does he feel the same way about Miki?”

“Ryo, don’t talk like that, you know that you’re _both_ important to me. But as for Amon… no, it’s only you.”

“Interesting. The same as Jenny, then. I suppose none of it really matters, but it’s interesting to think about. It’ll come to a head or it won’t, but there aren’t any reports of similar beings on any of the networks I follow. Perhaps I’m just a failed Devilman.”

“I don’t think that you’re a failed anything, Ryo.”

“You’re too soft-hearted, Akira. I’ve never met a human worthy of my time or attention, but even I know I’m not wholly perfect. This merging, what does it mean to Amon? I’m curious.”

“I’m not sure. Being a Devilman doesn’t come with a handbook. You’re my main resource, you know. But I get the feeling that there’s something special about it. Kaim loved Silene, you know, and it wasn’t… it wasn’t a power thing, or anything. That’s usually all Amon cares about, the idea that might makes right. I think that’s what ethics mean to a lot of demons. When it comes to you, I’m not quite sure what it is, for Amon. He thinks that you’re better than him. That you’re stronger than him. That listening to you is the only way to keep ourselves in your good books, and that that’s our best chance at survival. But I think it’s beyond that. I think Amon really, actually loves you. Just like a human would.”

“Fascinating. So demons do experience love… I suppose it makes sense. It serves a valuable social role even among the most violent of societies. And how would Amon like to… _show_ his love?”

Akira flushed. “It’s — just like any demon, I suppose. It’s a physical thing, in part, but I think the merging concept is way more intimate than that. Something about the idea of even your unique self up to strengthen someone you care about, of combining your strength to be something stronger, of letting yourself be _useful_ to the one you love… that’s something really precious. There wouldn’t be any secrets, any separation. All of those years we spent apart, we’d know about it. I’d get why you’re so harsh. You’d understand why I’m such a crybaby.”

Ryo smiled. It was the most gentle expression Akira had ever seen grace his face, not even a little predatory. He often seemed inhumanly cold, calculating, but for all he might scoff about the foolishness of love he clearly felt it just the same. Maybe it was an inhuman kind of love, too, but that didn’t make it less _love_ -love. “Akira… If I asked you, would you do it with me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation.

Ryo leaned over, and without a word wrapped his arms around Akira, pulling him into a hug - once which Akira returned immediately. Their lips meant, first gentle, then hard, then…

He wasn’t sure quite when it started, his skull growing soft against Ryo’s, his skin growing thinner and thinner. He understood in that moment, more than he ever had before, what his place in the world was, what his gears were in God’s grand design. This was his purpose, his higher self; his body needed none of the violent self-mutilation of a lesser demon to give way to Ryo’s. Where their skin touched it started to meld together, the colors blending and swirling together, not really settling into the same shade more than marbling.

His vision faded, his awareness grew vague, but the process continued; his arms slowly migrated from his shoulders to Ryo’s, blessing their combined self with a second pair, as his internal organs began to gel together into one great mass of flesh. His mind was _literally_ melting, his skull splitting open like overripe fruit to let the gray matter escape through Ryo’s eye sockets and into his own mind. His eyes absorbed into his skin, unneeded in the fusion; his legs merged together. Their fusion was clean, easy — and then, in a brilliant flash of light, it was something else entirely.

The resplendent strands surrounded them both, forming a cocoon as Ryo’s body sprouted wings, as his clothes dissolved to reveal a form almost classic in its combination of those traits typically regarded as masculine and feminine. Their hair was long and blonde, at first, but as Akira’s scalp began to crawl away from the rapidly disintegrating form of his own body, deep black hair was mixed in, patches of each color. Ryo’s form became sharper, or maybe Akira was becoming softer; regardless, they were becoming something even more androgyne, even more mixed than Ryo’s true self had been in the first place.

They were all aware, now — of Ryo’s true nature, of Satan’s desire for the death of man, of Akira’s conviction to protect his people regardless of how they felt about him. There was a moment where their merging seemed to destabilize, but it passed. In this form, Akira could understand the true love and passion that informed demonic existence; in this form Satan could see the strength of heart and the celebration of life that gave humanity its value. Could want for peace, could want for more. Could seek the dream that they both started to form, the true merging of their races, the elimination of demon and human both in favor of their merged existence, the Devilman. There was no need for any separations before, no need for harsh lines, for the self to be a singular, monolithic concept. Humanity could see the truth, demons could understand the true beauty of their abilities.

God wouldn’t stop them. God couldn’t stop them. God gave Satan the rope to hang themselves by; He never interceded so directly until there was nothing left for him to watch. Slowly, the merge completed, their skin thickening again, becoming firm enough to hold its own, Akira’s own form totally absorbed.

They were together now, all love — love of self, the end of other, a truer existence as a single, ideal being. All of Ryo’s boundless love for Akira, all of Satan’s willingness to give up Amon’s incredible strength just to give his best friend, his object of affection a fighting chance, all of Akira’s own confused but ironclad loyalty and passion. They loved their shared self in its entirety.

They were all they needed, in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a short but pretty wild life, but that's Second Lives! I'm really happy with how this turned out.
> 
> I was really disappointed Devilman didn't do more with the whole merging concept, because frankly it's fascinating.


End file.
